A rose by any other name

The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
Sonnet 54

No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud;
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
Sonnet 35

Of all the flowers, methinks a rose is best.
Two noble kinsmen


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